AN: God, you guys are amazing. Your feedback makes me so immensely happy I just might explode.

What, a light-hearted chapter? In THIS fic!? It's more likely than you think.

When they had first met, all three of them had doubted their ability to adapt to one another. Liz and Patty lie on one side of the spectrum in both class and personality; Kid sat on an island he had made for himself miles and miles away. It was impossible to close up a hole like that.

Instead, they would have to build a bridge.

Kid simply did not laugh often. It was one of the many harsh anomalies of his nature that made him completely unique, a black mark that made his heart seem icy, and Liz felt like a complete stranger to him whenever she laughed through his silence. Initially, she was downright baffled by his somberness - whereas Patty was constantly giggling and cackling and Liz voiced her own mirth with desirable frequency, their meister rarely laughed along with them, instead keeping his wits strictly about him. It was like he didn't trust them to see him laugh on a regular basis. His amusement burst forth in a series of dry chuckles when words or an event struck him in the right way, but he rarely went beyond that, restraining himself for the sake of keeping a humorless reputation. Liz was almost afraid of him sometimes; she could giggle and jest and poke at him, and all he did was stare back at her with his bleak yellow eyes like he'd never seen her before in her life. She wished, with all of her heart, that he would relax around them more and allow himself some happiness.

It isn't to say that he never laughed, because he did sometimes; perhaps they just hadn't been around him long enough to judge him properly. He laughed during special occasions, and in all honesty, it really was quite a sound - a high-pitched, goofy sort of laugh, something one would not expect of him - and Liz felt blessed whenever she heard it. It had the ability to fix everything that was broken within her, a rare treat that made those who heard it feel good. When Liz spoke and Kid actually laughed at her, she felt as if she could do anything, because she had made this straight-faced kid they had just met recently act human around them, and as a result, the gap between their souls began to close.

The first time his laughter reached her ears, however, it filled her to the brim with murder, and she wanted nothing more than to wrap her hands around his neck and give him a good throttle.

It was obvious that Liz lacked grace.

Kid had taken to telling her that on a regular basis following their first few missions together. It wasn't meant to be an insult; it was just true. She lacked the swanlike delicacy many women had because she traded being ladylike for being alive, and, quite frankly, she was glad she did. Kid tried his hardest to get her to walk with a swing in her step as opposed to a slouch, placing one foot in front of the other with the tenderness of a lady, but to no avail: For the time being, she was strongly opposed to this boy teaching her how to be a girl. It just didn't work like that, she tried to explain to him - he had to be with them a Hell of a lot longer before he started criticizing how she swung her hips when she walked.

As ridiculous as it sounded, they had actually ended up arguing about it one day. He had been standing at the midpoint of the twin staircases, carefully observing the floor below to make sure nothing was flawed, when Liz approached him from the left. Taking note of her sock-muffled footsteps, he lifted his head and turned to look at her.

"Liz," he said gently, frowning. "You haven't been working on your walk, have you? It's all wrong."

"I don't have to," she said curtly, folding her arms. "I thought we already went over this."

"I've already convinced you to try painting your nails, and you enjoyed it," he insisted, nearly whining at her. "Why won't you try walking like a lady? You sister does it just fine and she acts like she's twelve."

Liz really didn't want to hear it today.

"Do you really think you know what a girl wants, Kid?" She demanded, sliding her hands down to her hips crossly.

"Mind the stairs," he cautioned. She ignored him blatantly.

"Yeah, because we all know Death the Kid knows how a woman should act," she continued with her eyes narrowed, turning her back to him. "You want to see me walk like a lady? Fine. I'll walk the way Kid wants me to." She pranced about, swinging her hips dramatically. "Look at me," she said loudly in a sing-song tone, skipping with every step. "I'm Death the Kid, and I wiggle my hips because I'm pretty and I think that all girls should be as pretty as me!"

"Mind the stairs," he reminded her, fixing her with a half-lidded stare. "You're in socks. You may slip and hurt yourself."

"Uh oh, pretty Kid is afraid that his partner will fall and break her face. We wouldn't want her to be asymmetrical." She wiggled her hips again, turning to face him with a sneer. "Come on, you're not even smiling?"

"You're not saying anything funny," he said matter-of-factly.

"I'm making fun of you! At least get angry if you're not going to laugh," Liz said, tossing her head and rolling her eyes. "Doesn't it piss you off when I do this?" She promptly turned her back on him again, swaying her hips with every step. "Ooh, symmetry, symmetry, I'm Death the Kid and I need symmetry--"

Several noisy thumps and one badly bruised pelvis later, Liz found herself at the foot of the stairs.

"Liz!" Kid raced to the top of the steps and stopped there, looking down at her. "Are you alright?"

Injured, shocked, and incredibly embarrassed, Liz tilted her head back to look up at Kid. She saw him staring, open-mouthed, from where she sat, and her cheeks burned. He wasn't even going to say 'I told you so?' What kind of a guy was he!?

"You're a real asshole," she told him, substituting her humiliation with misguided fury. "A real asshole."

Kid looked genuinely startled for a moment. Then he laughed. He laughed so hard that tears trembled above his lower eyelids, and he had to cross his arms over his stomach to keep his chest from hurting.

"Stop laughing!" She seethed, slapping the stairs with her palms violently.

"Why?" He asked, gasping for breath between hearty giggles. "Now that... That was funny."

Liz had been furious, sure, but with every fit of giggles she'd felt more of her anger melt away. There was no denying it; his laughter was kind of adorable, obnoxious or not, and she wanted to hear it again.

Just under different circumstances next time. That was all she asked.